Justice's Detective
by Feriku
Summary: In December 2026, Detective Bobby Fulbright heads out for another epic day of JUSTICE! (Beware of Dual Destinies spoilers. In justice we trust!)
1. A Day for Justice

**Justice's Detective**

December 2026

Chapter 1: A Day for Justice

Birds sang and the sun shone as it rose above the horizon to cast everything in a golden light. The air was fresh and clear. It was a special day, a day most people called "Tuesday." Tuesday was very special, as were Monday and Wednesday and all the others, for that matter. It was special because it was a day for JUSTICE!

Detective Bobby Fulbright was expected to check in at the police department each morning at 8:00. Naturally, since his apartment was 15 minutes away from the department, he left at 5:00.

He got into his car and drove until he reached the traffic light, where a few other cars already waited. Some were regulars, there every morning. The drivers all looked exhausted, and more than a few looked irritable. Well, he couldn't have that.

He rolled down his window and stuck his head out. "In justice we trust!"

One driver rolled down his own window and shouted something about where he could put his justice, but before Fulbright could ask him just exactly how he was supposed to do that, the light turned green, and all the cars continued on their way.

He kept his window open so he could shout and wave to the drivers he passed going in the opposite direction. None of them responded, but a dog whined from where it limped along the side of the road.

Fulbright pulled over and got out of the car.

The dog's leg looked fine, but it jerked every time its paw brushed the ground. Matted fur stuck out in clumps, and its eyes shone with suspicion.

The detective sniffled and wiped his eyes. To be abandoned and hurt, with no one in the world who cared—that wasn't justice. Poor little puppy deserved to be loved and cared for. He held out his hand for the dog to sniff before he proceeded. If he had to go to the hospital because he was bitten by a stray, he'd waste so much time.

Besides, last time the hospital staff hinted they were tired of seeing him and maybe he could just be a little more careful.

Not that he minded, as long as justice was achieved!

The dog licked his hand and gave him a pathetic stare, so he examined his paw. Something shiny and hard stuck from the pad. The dog yelped when he touched it. He clenched his fist. A nail. Some monster left a nail lying around where an innocent puppy could step on it.

He heaved the dog into his arms, deposited him in the back seat of his car, and returned to the driver's seat. He made it to the vet's office in record time, as he only had to stop twice to give people directions.

The office was empty, so early in the morning, but at least it was open. Such wonderful people, willing to open at the crack of dawn to make sure animals were safe. He pulled out a handkerchief and cried into it.

From the back seat, the dog barked and stared at him.

He took a deep breath and composed himself. Then heaved the dog into his arms again and went inside. "In justice we trust!"

"What can—oh, hello, Detective. In justice we trust." The receptionist, Iolana, glanced at the dog and set aside her paperwork. "Another one?"

"The pursuit of justice never ends."

She sighed. "Is this your dog, or another stray?"

"A stray." He saluted. "But rest assured, I will find him a loving home before the day is out! His paw is injured, but he's otherwise in good health. I'll come by later this afternoon to pay and pick him up."

The first time it happened, they'd all been skeptical of him, but this time, she just smiled and called a veterinary assistant to take care of the dog until he could be seen. Justice had shown them all the true goodness in the world.

#

The grocery store was between the vet's office and the police department, so he couldn't pass it by. He walked inside. Three people were at the checkout line. One was an old woman, one was an exhausted-looking young woman, and one was a man in a battered coat.

"In justice we trust!"

All three stared at him. The cashier just smiled. "Good morning, Detective."

He beamed and joined her. Once he paid for everyone's orders, he waited another minute to see if more customers would arrive, and then did his own shopping. With bags full of groceries in tow, he returned to his car.

Technically speaking, the park was between the grocery store and the police department, as long as you took the scenic route. He did.

As soon as he reached it, he parked, and went for a walk beneath the trees with his groceries. On the far side of the football field, a woman slept curled up on the bottommost row of the bleachers.

He crossed the field and frowned. A loud shout was a rather unpleasant way to be awoken, even if it was a cheerful message. He crouched and whispered, "In justice we trust."

"Yagh!" The woman's eyes snapped open and she sprang away from him. "Wh-who are you? What do you want?"

He pulled out his ID and flashed it happily. "Detective Bobby Fulbright!"

"I'm not breaking any laws…"

He laughed. "I come in the name of justice!" He deposited the bags on the bench beside her and then held out some money. "If you ever need help, you can call on me… me and JUSTICE!"

#

The police department was almost in sight, but he still had time, so he took a detour to the prison. None of the guards stopped him or questioned his business there, although once he ran up and down the halls a few times shouting about justice, they asked him if he had a specific prisoner he wanted to see, or if he would rather see a doctor.

He laughed heartily at their little joke. "I'm just spreading the good word of justice!" He saluted to the bemused guards and to justice itself, and left.

Back in his car, he glanced at the clock. 7:20. He still had forty minutes. He drove to the nearest high school, convinced the principal to let him give a quick speech about justice over the intercom, and made it back to the police station at 7:59.

Just in time, as usual.

#

The police chief stood by Fulbright's desk, arms folded.

"Good morning, Chief! In justice we trust!"

"Enough of that. I need to talk to you in my office, Fulbright."

He checked the time again. "I'm not late, sir." He grinned. "And even if I was, it would only be because I was delayed in the name of justice!"

"In my office. Now."

He sighed and followed the chief up the flights of stairs to his office.

The chief sat down at his desk. Fulbright sat in the chair in front of him. They stared at one another. The chief looked tired. Maybe he wasn't getting enough sleep. Or maybe he needed a vacation. It was easy to be crushed down beneath all the crime reports. Too many dealings with criminals, and a person could stop seeing the light entirely.

Maybe that was what it was about. He needed a vacation, and he knew Detective Bobby Fulbright could handle things in his absence. Hold the place together. Deliver truth and justice across the city.

Fulbright got a little teary-eyed just thinking about it. He wouldn't let the chief down.

"All right—why are you crying, Fulbright?"

"I'm so happy I entered the police force!" He got out his handkerchief again and sobbed. "Every day, the city becomes a little better, a little safer. I'm just so happy I can do my part to help."

The chief let out a long breath through clenched teeth. "I better get straight to the point. Winston Payne is in the hospital."

Fulbright's head snapped up and he threw his hands into the air. "What?!" He pumped his fist and jumped to his feet. "I shall go visit him at once and arrange for flowers to be sent!"

"Sit down."

"But sir—"

The chief pointed at the chair.

Fulbright sat.

"You seem very distressed about Payne's health. I understand you two didn't get along very well."

He saluted. "I was assigned to work with Prosecutor Payne, sir. Whether I got along with him or not, I care about him as I care about everyone. Even more, perhaps, because he is my responsibility."

"He's in the hospital because he suffered a nervous breakdown."

"What?" He leaped up again. "He must be terrified that the case will fall apart in his absence! In his condition, that could be devastating! I can make it to the hospital in five—"

"Sit."

"But Prosecutor Payne is—"

"_Sit._"

He sat.

"Do you have any idea what caused his breakdown, Detective?"

He frowned. Payne was rather high-strung to begin with, so it couldn't have taken much. His behavior over the past few weeks indicated…ah, yes… so that was it… "Yes, sir, I do."

"Please. Enlighten me."

"There have been several gross acts of injustice in our court system lately—some the fault of our own prosecutors. People call it the dark age of the law. Prosecutor Payne must have finally seen the corruption around him. It's terrible to feel you're the only one who can stand against an unjust system." He stood and saluted. "That is why, sir, I must go to him at once to assure him he is not alone!"

"Sit down."

He hesitated. Which was more just, obeying his stressed boss or running to the aid of a suffering man? Talk about a conundrum. Payne needed help, but the chief looked like some veins in his forehead were about to explode. Fulbright perched on the edge of his seat, ready to fly to Payne as soon as he could.

"That is _not_ why Payne had a breakdown." The chief pinched the bridge of his nose. "The doctors tell me he's doing quite well, except he has this strange phobia… this _terror_, if you will, that at any moment, a detective is going to burst into his room screaming about justice."

"W-what?" He threw his hands into the air. "A-are you saying that—that I—" He barely got his handkerchief out in time for the next rush of tears. "—_I_ caused Prosecutor Payne's nervous breakdown? Oh no, what have I done?!"

"Will you pull yourself together, Detective? At this rate, I'll end up right there with him…"

"No!" He wiped his eyes and gulped back his remaining tears. "Please, sir, tell me what happened."

The chief sighed. "According to Payne, you were, quote, 'constantly on his case,' and you 'criticized everything he did.'"

"That's not true, sir!"

"Isn't it?"

"Of course not." Fulbright fixed him with a serious look. "Prosecutor Payne…has some issues with justice. He's not a bad man, not at all. He just needs a little help to see that there are more important things than winning, and that making rookie attorneys feel bad isn't as important as discovering the truth."

"He also says you sided against him at your last trial."

"He was _wrong._ The evidence clearly pointed in the defense's favor, and he was arguing just so he could win." He shuddered. "That slimy criminal would have gotten away if I hadn't stepped in to refute the prosecutor's lies."

"During your most recent case, he says you, and again I quote, 'put him in timeout.'"

He laughed. "Even at a time like this, he still has a sense of humor. You have to admire him for that. All I did was sit him down with a pad of paper, a pencil, and the evidence, and I told him he couldn't leave until he wrote me an essay on how our case was just."

"Okay… Detective, let me cut straight to the point. You aren't working with him anymore. Not now, not when he gets out of the hospital, not ever."

"I see." He adjusted his sunglasses. "Hmm, I suppose he'll have to find the path to justice on his own from now on. Well, I understand. I've done all I could for him at this point. Sir, if at all possible, I would like to request—"

"No."

"But sir, you haven't even heard my request yet."

"Go ahead, but chances are good it's 'no.'"

"I would like to work with Gaspen Payne."

"No."

"But sir, he's even further from the path of justice than his brother!" He clenched his fist. "I… I do not want to believe he is a bad man, but I have heard all sorts of rumors about his corruption."

"No."

"But sir—"

"Detective, what part of 'no' don't you understand?"

He deflated and slumped in the chair. "Very well, sir."

This was the end. The dark age of the law had finally struck him down. He'd gone too far in his attempts with Payne, and the chief was going to take away his badge and send him away forever. He wanted to cry, but he just felt numb. After everything he'd gone through…

The chief held out a folder. "Read everything in this file. It explains your new assignment."

Fulbright sat bolt upright. "M-my new…You mean… I'm not being punished? I have a new assignment?"

"Yes."

He clutched the folder to his chest and burst into tears. "Thank you, sir, oh, thank you! Justice will prevail! I will devote myself to this new assignment with every fiber of my being! I will prove myself worth of being given this chance! IN JUSTICE WE TRUST!"

"There's no need to prove anything."

"Th-there isn't?"

"I wouldn't dream of giving this to anyone else but you. After all you've done, you _deserve_ it."

#

Fulbright bounced all the way back to his own desk. "In justice we trust!"

A few half-hearted replies returned his greeting. Even such a lackluster response couldn't dampen his mood. Sure, Prosecutor Payne hated him, but he'd been given a brand-new chance to bring justice to the world.

He rubbed his hands together and opened the folder. A stack of papers sat inside, mostly official documents. On top was a brief outline of the assignment.

He roared with laughter.

The detective at the desk next to his glanced over. "Bobby? You okay?"

"I've never been better in my life!"

"O-okay." He edged away.

Fulbright removed his sunglasses so he could wipe his eyes. Oh, that chief, what a kidder. Pretending like he was all angry about Payne, when all the time he had _this_ up his sleeve. Making it like he was going to punish Fulbright for his attempts to show Payne the light, when really he was going to reward him—in the best way possible, the best reward a good detective of justice could ask for, by proving how much he _believed_ in him.

He bawled into his handkerchief. Even as committed as he was to justice, sometimes the goodwill and faith of the people he knew overwhelmed him.

At last, he calmed down enough to read the documents through a haze of tears. As he went through page after page, his tears dried up. Suspicion prodded the back of his mind. This was more than just an assignment for a detective. Something was there, between the lines, something _strange_ about what he was reading, something that didn't add up, something he would have to uncover with every ounce of justi—WHAT?!

He stared at the final line.

In two seconds, he was at the chief's office.

* * *

_Author's note: Once again, my friend Stein999 on Deviantart has created this lovely cover. :D_


	2. Injustice

Chapter 2: Injustice

The chief didn't even look up from the papers on his desk. "Hello, Fulbright."

"Ch-chief!"

"I thought I'd be seeing you about now."

"This… it… it isn't justice!

"Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do what the Prosecutor's Office tells us to do."

Fulbright made a strangled noise. "I… I can't… I can't do it!"

"At last." The chief folded his arms and raised his eyebrows. "The great Detective Fulbright returns to Earth with the rest of us and admits this isn't a shining world filled with wonderful people who all want to do good."

"Sir, don't change the subject. We need to discuss this injustice!"

"There is nothing to discuss." The chief leaned forward. "If the Prosecutor's Office says a convicted murderer can prosecute cases, that's all there is to it."

It was all he could do to keep from jumping across the desk to hug him. "Oh, sir, you _do_ understand how unjust this is—otherwise you wouldn't keep changing the subject!" He let out a sigh and clenched his fist. "Now, what are we going to do about it?"

"I understand you might—wait, changing the subject?" He frowned. "Detective, are you trying to tell me that the 'injustice' that has you in such a state _isn't_ about Simon Blackquill?"

"Of course it is!"

"Then I've already explained why—"

"I can't rehabilitate a man and then send him to die!"

"…What?"

"Reform him, show him the path to justice, turn him into a valuable and worthy member of society, but then _let him be executed_? That's not justice. It's betrayal! Betrayal is the highest form of injustice! I won't do it, sir, I can't!"

The chief just stared at him for a long time.

He stared back and waited for his boss to come to his senses.

"…Sit down, Detective."

Fulbright sank into the chair.

"I don't know where you got this delusion that every assignment is some sort of soul-saving crusade. You are a detective. Your job is to solve crimes. When you work with a prosecutor, you are to gather evidence and testimonies to help his case. Look over your assignment again. Nowhere did I say you are to 'rehabilitate' Blackquill."

"But sir, then—" In his mind, he had a great speech prepared about how it was his duty as a true servant of justice to put everyone on the correct path, and even murderers weren't beyond all hope, and it would be incredibly unjust to work with a criminal and let him just continue on with his evil ways. If he was forced into such a position, he would have to choose between two unjust paths.

But as he started to speak, he saw the chief's face and realized it wouldn't work. His speech would just be wasted words, lost on the ears of someone who didn't want to hear them. The chief needed to be shown the light just as much as any of the others did. And if Fulbright backed down from the assignment, it wouldn't just go away. Some other detective would be assigned to it. Someone who didn't care as much about justice. Someone who wouldn't _try._ That, perhaps, would be the most unjust outcome of all.

At a time like this, there was only one thing to do.

Fulbright burst into tears.

"Detective! Get a grip on yourself. Good Lord, you aren't going to carry on like this when you meet Blackquill, are you?"

He cried harder, with half a notion that maybe someone would hear the ruckus, come to investigate, and take his side.

"Very well, I'll find a different assignment for you."

He stopped crying. "No, sir."

"What?"

"I said no, sir. I accept this assignment."

Three unjust options. Rehabilitate a man and then betray him. Work with a criminal without trying to help him. Or put it on someone else's shoulders.

With a little difficulty, he forced his usual grin onto his face so he could beam at his bewildered chief. "You'll see. Justice will prevail!"

If all the options were unjust, he'd just have to make a fourth one.

#

For the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, Fulbright studied everything from the folder the chief gave him. He took breaks throughout, during which he told everyone else in the building all about his new assignment, the nature of justice, and how even the most hardened criminals could change their ways—even if it wasn't a _soul-saving crusade_, he couldn't very well be fired just because he talked about redemption.

At 3:00, he left for the prison. As long as he didn't take too many detours, he could make it in just a few hours.

He helped a man start his car, fixed the wheel on a little girl's bicycle, and sat down in a café for a cup of coffee with a lonely woman. Ah, justice.

With each person he helped, his mood lightened. It wouldn't be so bad. No challenge was too great for justice to overcome, and he, Bobby Fulbright, was justice's detective.

First things first. He smiled at the lonely woman, who introduced herself as Darlene. "Have you ever considered getting a pet?"

She put a hand over her mouth. "That's not a bad idea."

"I know a dog who could use a good home…"

"You do?"

"Yes!" He jumped up. "In justice we trust! I'll be back in just a few minutes so you can meet him."

"I… thank you so much, Mr. Detective."

He laughed. "Don't thank me, I'm merely following the path of JUSTICE!"

With her assurance that she would wait there until he returned with the dog, he set off for the vet's office. He didn't even make any justice-seeking detours, since it would be terribly unjust to keep the woman delayed for too long.

He burst through the doors. "In justice we trust!"

"Good to see you again," said Iolana. "In justice we trust! Your dog is doing quite well, now. Did you find a home for him?"

With a salute, he grinned. "Of course I did. He'll never have to worry about anything ever again."

"You're a good man, Detective."

"I'm just doing what anyone should do," he said.

"But most people don't. You do."

"All in the name of justice!"

She smiled. "Is there anything else I can do to help the cause of justice today?"

"Yes, actually. You know a lot about hawks, right?"

Iolana put her hand over her mouth and her eyes widened. "You're not going to tell me you have a stray _hawk_ in your car, are you?"

"Oh, no! He sort of belongs to a… err… uh…"

"…friend?" she prompted.

"Yes!" He laughed heartily and beamed at her. "I always knew you were on my side. We'll show the chief what's what, won't we?"

She stared at him.

"In justice we trust!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but…" She pumped her fist in the air. "In justice we trust! What do you want to know?"

#

"You want to WHAT?!" If the chief's face got any redder, he'd be able to give stop signs a run for their money. "Detective. Tell me I did not hear what I thought I just heard. Because I _thought_ I just heard you ask… I can't even say it."

Poor guy, mishearing simple things and getting all upset over them. Fulbright smiled and repeated his request.

The chief pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's what I thought you said… Detective, you were quite upset the last time you were in my office. Now, I'm going to ask you a question, and please answer it honestly… you won't get in any trouble, due to the circumstances. All right?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Have you been drinking?"

"Huh?" He scratched his head. "Well, I had a cup of coffee in the café with Darlene and Love. Isn't that cute? She named him 'Love' because that's what he's brought into her life!"

"Who are Darlene and Love? Are these witnesses in your case?"

Oh, that chief and his sense of humor! Fulbright laughed until he could hardly breathe, then finally calmed down long enough to say, "Oh no, sir. Darlene is a woman I met today. Love is a dog. We all had coffee to celebrate."

"…You're _sure_ you haven't had anything a little stronger than that coffee?"

"I'm sure, sir."

"Did you hit your head on anything?"

"No, sir."

"All in all, you'd say you're in a perfectly coherent state of mind?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why in blue blazes do you want to take a convicted murderer to see a veterinarian?!"

"Well, sir, Iolana—she's not a vet, by the way, she just works at the veterinarian's office as a receptionist—she's always very nice, and she helps me with stray animals I find around the city. In fact, she's the one who made sure Love was well taken care of while I was on duty today. His name wasn't Love then, though, because I hadn't met Darlene yet."

"What was in that coffee you had, Detective?"

"Two sugars and some cream. Is that important?"

"Just trying to figure out what to tell the psychiatrist…"

Another good joke. He laughed and then continued. "When I went back for Love, I got into a conversation with Iolana about hawks. She used to be a… what do you call them?"

"Nut?"

"Falconer."

"This isn't happening." The chief gave his head a small shake. "I'm dreaming this. I must be."

"You know, I think she misses being a falconer, because she was so excited when I brought it up. Anyway, she told me all about falconry, and…" He drooped. "She told me I don't have the right temperament for it. Did you know hawks eat other animals?"

"Imagine that."

He straightened and adjusted his sunglasses. "However, she saw how sad I was, and she said…" He cleared his throat and tried to imitate Iolana's voice. "'I'd be happy to meet your friend with the hawk, though. In justice we trust!' So I hurried right over here to make my request."

"Let me get this straight. You convinced a retired-falconer-veterinarian-receptionist-whatever… to meet Prosecutor Blackquill, and now you want to take him to see her. It never occurred to you that it would make more sense to take _her_ to see _him_?"

"I thought of that, sir." He saluted. "But Iolana is a very proper lady, and somehow it just feels inappropriate to take her to a prison."

The chief threw up his hands. "Oh, of course, it's so much more appropriate to drag a _murderer_ halfway across the city!"

"I know! So I can do it?"

"NO!"

"But sir, I—"

"Out."

"Sir?"

"Out!"

Fulbright let out an exaggerated sigh, to give him a few extra seconds to change his mind—it didn't work—and left the office.

By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, his mood was bright again. Requesting permission was just sort of a formality, especially when the request was totally in the line of justice. He was the detective in charge of Blackquill, after all. The prison guards would obey his orders without checking with anyone. He just needed to wait long enough for the chief to calm down, and everything would be all right.

In the meantime, though, he'd have to let Iolana know it would be a little while.

#

It was 5:00. Right on schedule, despite all the setbacks. All he had left to do was patrol the park one more time, and he'd be ready to go to the prison. And if he was a little late, well, it wasn't as if Blackquill was going to get tired and go home.

Chuckling to himself, Fulbright headed into the park. His new assignment was going to be so much fun. According to Blackquill's file, he was a master of psychology and a samurai, which sounded like a combination that couldn't fail. And anyone who called himself a samurai in 2026 wouldn't be too put off by Fulbright's justice crusade. They would hit the city as a storm of justice like the world had never seen. He could already picture the headlines.

_New Prosecutor-Detective Duo Ends the Dark Age of the Law_

_Twisted Samurai and Justice's Detective: An Unstoppable Force of JUSTICE_

_Blackquill and Fulbright Solve Every Crime, Ever_

He'd make sure they got the name order right. It was only fair, considering they'd probably still make a fuss about the prosecutor leaving his cell. If Fulbright got regular fresh air and a general lack of supervision, Blackquill could have top billing in the headlines.

Wait, what about the hawk? Three names would make those headlines a little crowded. Well, Taka could fly, so maybe that was a fair enough tradeoff.

Quiet sobs broke through his musings, and he raced in the direction of the sound. Someone was in trouble, and he was there—justice would prevail!

"Hello?" The patch of trees appeared to be empty, but the sound was definitely from there. "Hello, are you all right?"

"Hello?" a voice replied. "Is someone there?"

"Detective Bobby Fulbright! In justice we trust!" He pulled out his ID and displayed it… and frowned. "Uh, where are you?"

"I'm up here!"

He lifted his head and saw a small boy sitting up in a tree. He lifted his ID for the child to see. "Are you in trouble?"

"I'm stuck."

With a hearty laugh, he put away his ID and approached the base of the tree. "Don't worry, I do this all the time. Usually saving cats, but the technique is the same. Just gotta find a foothold, and up you go."

In truth, the trunk looked smooth enough to be polished, and the branches were well above his reach, but he didn't want to alarm the kid. Besides, if the kid had gotten up there, there had to be a way. Somewhere. He circled the tree. It looked just as bad from all angles. Finally, he gritted his teeth and took a running start.

His feet slid off the trunk, and he landed on his back. The wind knocked out of him, he lay there for a moment, but then staggered to his feet.

"Are you all right?" the boy asked.

"Just fine," he said with a laugh. "That was, uh, practice."

He approached the tree again and jumped.

And missed.

There was only one thing left to do. He backed up and charged for the tree. "JUSTICE!" he shouted, just as his feet left the ground. The fingers of one hand just brushed the lowest branch, but he got his other hand wrapped around it just in time. He flailed in the air for a while, then clambered onto the branches.

They bent and threatened to break, but he crawled forward to where the boy sat.

"Are we both stuck now, Mr. Detective?"

"Haha, no, getting down is always easier than going up!"

"But I got up just fine, and I can't get down, so if you had that much trouble getting up…"

"How _did_ you climb up so easily?"

"Used the ladder."

"The…what?"

"Ladder!" He pointed at the ground below. A ladder lay off to the side, obscured by overgrown grass. "It fell over when I got up here." He gave Fulbright a critical look. "Would've been easier if you used it, you know."

Sobbing would be wholly inappropriate during a rescue mission, so Fulbright laughed. "At least I got my exercise! Now, let's get down from here." He glanced down at the ground. It seemed a lot further away than it did before. He could call for help—but the thought of the chief's face if he learned a detective was stuck in a tree convinced him not to. The poor man had enough stress as it was. "In justice we trust!"

After a great dealing of wriggling and stabbing himself in the face with branches, Fulbright got himself into a position where the boy could climb onto his back and hang onto his neck with a death-grip, which admittedly wasn't a part of the plan, but it provided the added encouragement of getting out of the tree before he suffocated.

He inched forward. Just a little further, and he could lower his feet, then hang on, and—

_Crack!_

All at once, he was on the ground, with splintered branches all around him.

The boy, who suffered much less of an impact due to having a detective as a cushion, climbed off of him and helped him up. "Thanks so much!"

Every part of his body ached, but he grinned. "No problem. In justice we trust, right?"

"Uh, sure."

"Now go home and don't forget to live a life of justice."

"Sure thing, Mr. Detective!" The boy scrambled off.

Fulbright made sure he hadn't dropped anything too important, sniffled a little at the thought that he'd just set another young man on the path to justice—he'd save the city, one person at a time if need be—and continued on his way. He'd used up more time than he planned for, but all he had left was the circuit around the football field. He'd just tell Blackquill the truth. Maybe he'd even include the bits about falling out of the tree. A death row inmate could probably use a good laugh.

He grinned as he approached the field. They'd both laugh in the end. If the chief thought this was some sort of proof that justice could be defeated, well, he was sadly mistaken. By the time they were done solving crimes and ending the dark age of the law, Blackquill would be so reformed and such a valuable member of the Prosecutor's Building, they couldn't _possibly_ execute him.

And their first step on the path to rehabilitation would be… Fulbright's grin broadened. Of course! He'd make up for the personal injustice he'd unknowingly inflicted upon his former partner. Sure, if the chief was right, Payne would freak out if Fulbright burst into his hospital room, but a visit from a fellow prosecutor was probably _just_ what he needed to calm his nerves.

There was the tiny little problem that the chief had forbidden him from taking Blackquill to see Iolana, but he hadn't said anything about going to see Payne, and—

"Help! Anyone!"

Fulbright broke into a run. The cry came from the bleachers, and it was filled with pain and terror. "I hear you! I'm coming!"

The metal bleachers were solid in the front, so he circled around to the back, which was open except for the long posts that kept it fixed in the ground. It was dark beneath the bleachers, but he could make out the dim outline of a person on the ground.

The man let out a choked sob. "Oh thank God… I thought no one was going to hear me."

"What's wrong?"

"My leg… I slipped and fell, and I think it's broken. Even trying to move a little bit…" He gasped. "Agh…"

"Don't worry!" Fulbright stepped under the bleachers. "I'll get you out of there and to the hospital. In justice we trust!"

Depending on how badly the man was hurt, maybe they could stop at the prison for Prosecutor Blackquill on the way, and all go to the hospital together. A broken leg was nothing to take lightly, but despite the injured man's whimpers and sobs, the break didn't look all that bad. Different people had different thresholds for pain, though, and just because he was used to falling out of trees and being bitten by dogs didn't mean everyone was so durable. He hurried forward.

The man clutched some sort of container close to his chest. Oddly, he was wearing gloves. "Thank you so much."

"Not at all." Fulbright crouched to assess the damage. Up close the leg hardly looked broken at all. He laughed. "Oh, I think you're going to be just fine."

"Am I? Good."

"Now, let's see how we can—"

The man jumped up. The container in his arms tipped forward. Clear liquid sloshed inside and flew toward Fulbright, and then the world devolved into a red haze of burning pain.

He screamed and clawed at his face. Some…some sort of acid? He blinked, tried to see, but it was in his eyes and in his mouth and he couldn't breathe. A hand gripped the back of his head. Gloved fingers removed his sunglasses. He flailed his arms to strike his assailant, but hit only air and could do nothing as more acid poured over his face and through his hair.

The man released him, and Fulbright collapsed. He pressed his face against the ground, trying to find anything to relieve the pain, but it didn't stop he was on fire oh God…

He crawled forward. Had to get away… get help… tell the chief… he was going to be so late for his meeting with Blackquill…

A foot impacted with his side, and he fell, too disoriented from the pain to keep his balance. He rolled across the ground and gasped for breath. All he did was try to help people… Why did this man want to hurt him? This… wasn't justice…

Something cold pierced through the pain to touch his throat. It was almost a relief. Then it became hot. Sharp.

It was going to end. There was no escape this time. No justice to save him. Crime would continue and people would need help and the chief would believe justice was useless and the dark age of the law would continue and Iolana would never meet Taka and Blackquill would be executed…

"No…" Every word hurt, and blood bubbled into his mouth and his chest ached, but he would never give it up, never stop clinging to it. "In… justice… we…"

The blade drove into his throat again.

_Trust._


End file.
